


Haunt

by Rosefire15



Category: Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:46:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23872594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosefire15/pseuds/Rosefire15
Summary: He could see that the years were kind to her. She was adorned in a deep forest green dress with a matching bonnet, her brown curls that were once incredibly unruly, now tamely fashioned in a bun. He glanced down at her middle, where he could see that she was in family way. He glanced down to the hand that now rested upon her middle, the bright sheen from the simple golden ring taunting him. His throat was constricted, parched as he looked back into the eyes that had haunted him for so many years.OR: Darcy and Elizabeth reunite many years later, after Darcy failing to return to Hertfordshire after his role in saving Lydia.
Relationships: Elizabeth Bennet/Fitzwilliam Darcy
Comments: 8
Kudos: 114





	Haunt

_London, 1823_

“I suppose this will do.” His low voice indicated his resolved mien. The shopkeeper, disappointed by the important man’s response, protested quietly and resolved to find an alternative. He disappeared behind the shelves to find the novel the man had originally come in for.

Slapping his hat against his thigh in impatience, the tall man turned around from the counter, as he waited for the shopkeeper’s return. He placed the books onto the counter and then reached into his waistcoat for his watch. He frowned, noting the lateness of the hour. He had slipped into the shop to purchase a gift, but he now supposed it was not well worth the time. He ran his hand through his unruly, brown hair in frustration. “I do not have the time for this,” he muttered under his breath. Resolved to leave, he tapped his hat onto the counter. “I shall come in another time.”

He gathered his hat and his walking stick and was about to leave the shop before he felt, rather than saw, a blur rush through the door, headed straight for the shelves.

His eyes narrowed at the small creature reaching up for a book on a higher shelf. The shopkeeper had now returned and was glad to see the man still standing there.

“I am so glad you have not let yet, sir. I have found it!”

He turned his attention from the small boy of about five years to the shopkeeper. He glanced down at the novel and was pleasantly surprised to find a copy of what he had come in for.

He gathered the novel and expressed his thanks quietly. Finally bestowing a smile onto the shopkeeper, he said, “Add this to my accounts.”

The shopkeeper nodded profusely, adding, “I hope your nephew enjoys it, sir.” Though, the shopkeeper’s eyes narrowed behind him, muttering, “Children!”

The man smiled rather slightly and was about to tend to the boy and perhaps assist him in his endeavour when his face paled at the sound of a new voice.

_“William!”_

He heard a rush of muslin and the boy’s quiet protest, “Mama!”

The man’s hands that gripped the book trembled, as he slowly turned. Accompanied by the hauntingly familiar voice was a woman who was crouched down, her back turned away from him. All he could see was the boy, with the same brown curls as the woman’s, press his face into her shoulders. She lifted him up into her arms and left the shop, without glancing back at the counter.

She did not see the man who finally released the breath he had been holding in, his heart pounding with the blood rushing in his ears. He barely heard the shopkeeper call out his name, before he rushed out the door.

He glanced across the street where he saw the woman gather the boy into the carriage, accompanied by four white stallions and footmen in their livery. She smiled at the boy, muttering a few words before turning around to speak to the footman.

As she did, something must have caught her eye, as she looked up back into the direction of the shop her son had run to.

Her face blanched, noting the tall man who now stood in front of that bookshop.

He could see that the years were kind to her. She was adorned in a deep forest green dress with a matching bonnet, her brown curls that were once incredibly unruly, now tamely fashioned in a bun. He glanced down at her middle, where he could see that she was in family way. He glanced down to the hand that now rested upon her middle, the bright sheen from the simple golden ring taunting him. His throat was constricted, parched as he looked back into the eyes that had haunted him for so many years.

She would have found him to be as he always was – confident, imposing – if not for the look in his eyes. The same haunted look she knew reflected in her eyes during the rare times she had thought of a man many years in her past. She could not tell from her position across the lane, but she could see that years have passed, with the grey hair peppered in with his brown curls. She had heard there was no cause for a celebration, but still, to her satisfaction, her gaze glanced down at the left hand grasping at the book. No ring.

Much had not changed about his stare, she noted, from when she was a mere young woman. She knew now that the intent behind the stare was not to critique, but rather, it was his way of baring his soul.

All she could do was return his gaze, before she heard a voice inside the carriage. “Mama, are we to go home now?”

She returned his question, her voice wavering, “Yes, William. Papa will be waiting. We would not want to disappoint your cousins and Uncle and Aunt Bingley, now would you?”

The man stared at her, as though brooding and in deep contemplation. He finally responded to this interaction, by tipping his hat towards her before walking towards the direction of where a carriage stood waiting, the back revealing the crest of the family.

Her eyes followed him figure as he stepped into his carriage, noting he hesitated before doing so. She could hear his voice, “We may go.”

His carriage passed by her, and she could see his face hidden by the shadows. She did not know that he had wanted to look out just once to catch a glimpse of her to hold onto, so he could memorize her face. To hold onto the memory to reflect on during his loneliest times. But he did not. He now could not doubt there was a fondness for him in her memory, if not reflected by the name of her child. _William_. He was satisfied with that and had to be, for he could not wish for anymore. He glanced down at the book for his nephew, Georgiana’s son, but his memories were accosted by her. He tossed the book onto the seat in disgust, “I shall conquer this, I shall!”

He knew that though in his darkest moments, when he was at Pemberley with no one but himself, that it was only she that brought him joy. So, to satisfy that notion, he finally looked out and glanced at her one last time.

Mrs. Elizabeth Hunter, nee Bennet, had not seen Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy for many years, at least eight years she suspected. In the time passed, she had created a family with a man who she respected and loved.

She knew that she ought not to mourn for what was lost, but when she saw his tall figure and his intense eyes, she could not help but think of what could have been had fate worked in their favour. She supposed, as she stepped back into her carriage and gathered her son, one may never know.

**Author's Note:**

> AN: I have always wanted to write a story where Darcy and Elizabeth reunite years later, but cannot act upon it further. I hope you enjoy this story!


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